Divided

On one plane, I work. I do what needs to be done. I can do this, if this only.

On the other, I want to die. All I want. The sum of all my desires. I cannot go back and unbirth myself (if only... such a sweet fantasy, albeit just a fantasy). There is only one way, or there is bearing it until it comes of its own accord.

I am splintering. I am in pieces. I cannot go on, and I go on. It is madness.